


Day 16 - Forced To Beg (15.2)

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Whumptober 2020 [16]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Begging, Crying, Dick Grayson is Robin, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Licking, Possession, Read the warnings, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27042625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: Sequel to Day 15 - Possession. Now that the ruse is up, there's no holding back.No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAYForced to Beg| Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947217
Comments: 31
Kudos: 134





	Day 16 - Forced To Beg (15.2)

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Day 15 - Possession. Would definitely recommend you to read that first to make sense of this, but if you'd rather not, then, to summarise:  
> \- Bruce is possessed.  
> \- He does creepy shit to Dick  
> \- Dick figured out it isn't Bruce and attempted to fight him  
> \- Dick lost, because Bruce is possessed  
> \- Ends on Dick losing consciousness
> 
> **Warnings: torture (stabbing, the usual), being tied up, forced to beg, crying, licking, threats of rape/non-con, threats in general, scene that could be seen as self-harm,, paedophilic vibes?**
> 
> (I think that's everything? Pls let me know if there's anything I should add to that list and/or to the tags!!!)
> 
> Disclaimer: don't own dc

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

When Dick woke up, he was in Bruce’s bedroom. He was seated on the floor in front of the bed, leaning against the wooden frame. Bruce’s Persian rug was beneath him, cushioning his sore body from the hardwood floor.

He didn’t give away that he was awake just yet. Instead, he used the time to first take in his surroundings.

He could hear footsteps. They held the same weight as Bruce, but there was something about their gait that was different, as though the person wasn’t used to someone who was quite so heavy with the body specifications that Bruce had.

It gave Dick some semblance of hope, that if this really was Bruce, it wasn’t really _Bruce_. He’d been in this business long enough to have seen a lot of things, especially with the Titans. He knew that there was no way of contacting the team, not with Bruce keeping him here with no access to any of his tech (and what had Bruce even done, with an entire roomful of a teenager’s belongings?), but he held out faith in Clark and Diana.

But until then, he’d just have to take the blows as they came. He knew that if Bruce was possessed, or if he’d been replaced, the knowledge that someone with his face had killed Dick would haunt him. Dick had to find a way to subdue Bruce, before it came to that (or worse, his mind supplied, but he shied away from insinuations of that particular train of thought).

His arms were bound on either side of him, exposing his torso and making him feel as vulnerable as Not Bruce had no doubt intended. Dick could feel cold draughts in the room acutely, because his nightgown had taken quite a hit during their fight, and Bruce evidently hadn’t cared about replacing it with anything.

Dick was just glad he was still wearing underwear, though he mourned the loss of the taser.

“I know you’re awake,” Not Bruce said conversationally. 

Dick opened his eyes entirely, blinking blearily at him. His head still throbbed with his heartbeat, and he knew there were things up there that were fuzzy. There was probably a high chance that he had a concussion.

“Who are you?” Dick said, cutting to the chase. The ruse was up, anyway; there was no need to pretend anymore.

Simply put, a shrug looked _weird_ on Bruce’s body – the body that Dick had rarely seen perform an action that was so _imprecise_. Bruce was normal more blunt than that – even in confusion, he would never be so whimsical as to shrug. Dick had long suspected that Alfred had had a hand in that.

“I’m not from around here,” Not Bruce said. When he turned to look at Dick, he gave him an eerie smile, and his eyes flashed black.

“Is that still Bruce’s body?” Dick said, finally asking the one question that had been plaguing him ever since he’d realised that there was no way that this was Bruce.

The creature nodded. “It sure is,” it said. It seemed that it was also giving up pretence – little by little, its voice was slowly shifting away from Bruce’s tone and into something that was higher in pitch, the accent straying farther from Gotham’s upper class into something that Dick didn’t recognise.

“You gonna give me more information than that?”

The creature tilted its head at Dick. In its hands was an object that looked something like a knife. It had a handle, that was certain, and it had a sharper end, but there was something about the way the light hit it that made it hard for Dick to actually make out what it was, almost as though his mind shied away from acknowledging the object’s existence at all.

“No,” the creature inhabiting Bruce’s body said. “No, I’m going to make you pay for every little morsel I give you.”

Dick had been threatened by a lot of things in his life. It was just something that came with the job. He’d never, however, been threatened by something that had Bruce’s face, his body. It was unnerving, to say the least.

“I don’t beg easy,” Dick said, leaning back against the bedframe even though it set him on edge to further expose himself like that.

“You will, by the time I’m through with you,” the creature promised.

It was almost like an optical illusion, the way it moved. One second it was on the other side of the room, near Bruce’s chest of drawers, and the next it was crouching in front of Dick, a hand coming up to grab Dick’s chin and force Dick to look at it.

The grip was like _iron_ , beyond the hold of a human. Dick knew that there would definitely be bruises from this, and part of him distantly grimaced at the thought of the amount of concealer he was going to have to use.

“It’s a shame, really,” the creature said. It held the knife at Dick’s mouth, and Dick’s eyes widened as he felt a burning sensation begin. He could feel something wet dripping from his face down his body, but he had no idea whether that was something from the blade or his own blood. “I really liked this nightgown on you. So… _tasty._ ”

Dick bit the inside of his mouth to stop any noises from escaping as the creature casually trailed the weapon down Dick’s throats and his chest. He could barely focus on anything else, beyond the pure agony of the blade. His blood was rushing inside his ears, pounding so fast that Dick genuinely thought he was going to be sick.

And then it died down just as suddenly as it came, and Dick felt the tight grip return to his chin. He panted for breath as his body tried to deal with the sudden lack of pain, unable to move in subconscious fear of it returning.

“That all you got?” Dick got out through gritted teeth.

His tongue moved to test the spot on his lip where the knife had touched, and sure enough, there was fresh blood there. Upon glancing down for the slightest of moments, he saw that the nightgown was in tatters, cut through the middle where the knife had gone down. The entire thing, once a soft white, was now sticking to Dick’s body with blood and sweat.

“No,” the creature said. “I simply wanted to hear you _scream_.”

And with that, the creature stuck the blade into Dick’s upper arm, absolutely no finesse whatsoever, and the burning started all over again. It was accompanied by another touch, once so familiar but now feather light upon his skin. It traced paths alongside the knife, and Dick couldn’t tell which was worse.

* * *

Dick had never been tortured like this before. Physical pain didn’t compare – this was something else. He could feel every scrape of the knife burning deep within him, lighting a fire against his skin and _staying_ there long after the blade had disappeared.

His breathing was sporadic, but it hitched even more when the creature took to the soles of his feet. Biting on his lip was out of the question – it still sluggishly bled whenever Dick tried to speak.

Dick didn’t even realise that there were tears leaking out until the creature stopped carving into him for a moment, a look of sheer delight on its face. Dick felt a finger on his face, a touch that was so very familiar to him, something that normally meant comfort and affection. It swiped it down the side of Dick’s face and then popped it into its mouth.

“Delicious,” it said, a manic grin on its face. “You’re absolutely lovely, aren’t you? I don’t know how he could have you here, in this little cage for so long, resisting the temptation.”

Then the grip on Dick’s chin shifted lower, until it was around his throat. Dick couldn’t help the hitch in his breath as the creature’s thick fingers circled around his neck and _squeezed_. It wasn’t to knock him out, not tight enough to do anything beyond bruise him, block his air supply just enough that Dick would feel it. Dick thrashed, feeling like a pinned butterfly.

“But not enough. You _will_ beg. I _will_ break you.”

Dick couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down his spine at those words.

* * *

Dried blood was _uncomfortable_. Dick didn’t feel like moving ever again, but every time he did so, he could feel the way it stuck to him and to his scrap of clothing, crusty and browning. He tried not to glance down at his body, knowing that it looked worse than it probably was. Dick didn’t want to think about how long he’d been here for.

“Time to change this up a little,” the creature said.

“Why?” Dick got out. He was swimming in and out of focus at this point. “Because you’re failing at _breaking me?”_ He gave a weak laugh, coming out more as small huffs of air than any actual sound. “Typical villain. So full of yourself.”

This time he got a backhand for his effort. Dick’s head snapped to the side, hitting the bedframe and sending stars through his vision. With all the other injuries, he’d almost forgotten about the concussion.

The issue with this creature being… not human, was that it meant that its sleeping habits (if it slept at all, that was) were entirely unknown to Dick, as were other things like eating and bathroom breaks. By the clock in Bruce’s room, Dick estimated that he’d been here for eighteen hours. And in that time, while things had slowed down on occasional (when the creature sensed that Dick was withdrawing into his head, as a way of coping) there had been no pauses.

“Watch,” the creature said, its voice gleeful.

Dick didn’t comply, partly out of spite, but mostly because he was just too exhausted to hold his head up.

 _“Watch.”_ Dick’s head was yanked upwards, that tight hold around his chin returning. He was _definitely_ going to have bruises there after all this.

As Dick watched, the creature rolled up Bruce’s sleeve, and Dick was almost about to make a half-hearted crack at not getting its clothes dirty, when the creature drew a thin line down Bruce’s forearm with the blade.

Dick was suddenly more alert now than he’d been since this whole thing had begun. He must’ve been a little _too_ obvious, because suddenly, the creature was leering at him, as though he’d just cracked Dick’s code.

And, in all honesty, he _had_. Because there was nothing that Dick wouldn’t do if it stopped the creature from hurting Bruce, especially _permanently_.

“Hang on,” Dick said, forcing his voice to sound bored. “How do I even know Bruce is in there? You could’ve killed him when you possessed him and just be parading around in him, playing me.”

The creature shrugged, but its eyes glinted. “I was going to save this for my grand finale, but since you gave me a few of your tears already, I suppose I can give you a little taster.”

It was like a funhouse mirror. Dick could tell the exact moment Bruce was _back_. His eyes were _horrified_ , guilt embedded in his face in a way Dick had never seen before, but before Dick got to say a single word – to ask Bruce to _fight_ it – Bruce threw his head back and yelled, “ _Superman!”_

Almost before the word was out of his mouth, the creature took control once again. Dick stared at the shift in command, at the way it had taken over so quickly once again. Bruce had the strongest wills of anyone Dick knew; to be overpowering him like this was… it was unimaginable.

“There’s no point in calling for help,” the creature said. “I know for a fact that Superman is away on a mission. Way out of hearing range. Sent him there myself.”

And with that, it plunged the blade into Bruce’s arm, watching itself twist it in with a grim fascination.

“Please,” Dick whispered. “Please. Don’t hurt him. Hurt me all you want, _toy_ with me. I’ll do whatever you want – I’m _begging_. Just—don’t hurt him.”

The creature contemplated him for a second, and just when Dick thought that he’d convinced him, the creature made a noise. “That was good,” it said, as though grading a piece of homework. “You put a fair bit of effort in. And heart, I’ll give you that, too. But I need _more_.”

He casually unbuttoned Bruce’s shirt more. Bruce’s skin was littered with scars, ones that Dick was familiar with and ones that he knew only through asking. But there was a marking on his torso, just above where his stomach was, that made Dick squint. It was like a brand, almost. The skin was reddened and raised higher than the rest of Bruce’s flesh.

Dick had been around this block his fair share of times. He knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that he had to break that mark.

But he’d almost forgotten the more immediate threat – the creature was now circling Bruce’s torso with the blade, humming a sort of song under its breath as it gauged Dick’s reaction.

Dick did his best to wince the very tiniest bit at just the right spot, an area where the knife had the most likely chance of missing vital organs and arteries. He hoped that the creature currently inhabiting Bruce’s body didn’t have much knowledge of the human body.

The flinch when Bruce brutally slammed the knife right below his belly button, however, didn’t have to be exaggerated. Bruce’s mouth grinned widely, all teeth, as Dick’s breath hitched in his throat. He pulled the knife back out again in an instant, not seeming to care whether or not it came out the way it had gone in.

Blood poured from it immediately, soaking through Bruce’s pyjama pants and pooling down into the rug. Dick couldn’t look away from the wound, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the situation. All he knew was that, if they didn’t stop that bleeding soon, it didn’t matter that the creature had hit a relatively safe spot – Bruce would bleed out.

“Please,” he said through numb lips. “ _Please_. I’ll do whatever you want. You can possess _me_. Just make sure he lives. I’m begging you. You want me to cry? I can cry.”

He did his best to force out tears, blinking when they’d formed so they’re roll down his cheeks. He knew he’d done a decent job when the creature eyed him, eyes filled with a sort of lust that Dick only associated with those hopped up on Ivy’s toxins.

The creature’s eyes looked at Dick contemplatively, like a kid who had just been given far more power than they had anticipated and was now soaking up the feeling. Its steps in Bruce’s body were normal – there was no limp, nothing to indicate that Bruce’s abdomen now possessed a gaping hole in its flesh.

“That’s _much_ better,” the creature said, walking up to Dick and leaning down.

This time, it tilted its head towards the side of Dick’s face. Dick held his breath and stared forward, unable to hide how his breathing picked up slightly as Bruce’s face, now so alien, came close enough that Dick could see each individual pore.

And then something wet touched his cheekbone, and Dick _jumped_ , whirling around just in time to see the creature’s tongue flit back into its mouth.

“Keep the tears coming, my lovely,” it said with a leer. “You’re a full course meal. You have no idea what I have in store for us, do you? Once I’m done with you—”

And that was the precise moment that something _threw_ it back against the floor. The creature landed there with a _thump_ , and actually stayed there for a moment, as though it had been winded.

Dick could have cried in sheer relief at the man standing between him and it, in blue and red.

“It’s not Bruce,” Dick slurred. It seemed as though his body knew that back-up had arrived; he could finally let go of the tentative hold he had on consciousness. “Possessed by something. An’ he’s hurt.”

Dick didn’t pay attention to the placating words Clark said after that; he watched with bleary eyes as J’onn swept in – evidently called here by Clark, crouching over Bruce’s prone form. Clark appeared next to Dick, freeing him and asking questions as he tried to check him over. Dick didn’t say anything more, merely squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to block out the rest of the world for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~and to think i was originally going to write a shoot the hostage fic lmao~~
> 
> Thanks for reading!!! Can confirm that there are going to be four parts - this is 2 out of 4. Fiddled around with the prompts a little so they'll be posted for days 17 and 18.


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